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Third Day
-
Novel IX

[Voice:
neifile
]

[
001
]
Gillette of Narbonne cures the King of France of a fistula,
craves for spouse Bertrand de Roussillon, who marries
her against his will, and hies him in despite to Florence,
where, as he courts a young woman, Gillette lies with
him in her stead, and has two sons by him; for which
cause he afterwards takes her into favour and entreats
her as his wife.

[Voice:
author
]

[
002
]
Lauretta's story being ended, and the queen being minded not
to break her engagement with Dioneo, 'twas now her turn to speak.
Wherefore without awaiting the call of her subjects, thus with mien
most gracious she began:

[Voice:
neifile
]

[
003
]
Now that we have heard Lauretta's story,
who shall tell any to compare with it for beauty? Lucky indeed
was it that she was not the first; for few that followed would have
pleased; and so, I misdoubt me, 'twill fare ill with those that remain
to complete the day's narration. However, for what it may be worth,
I will tell you a story which seems to me germane to our theme.

[Voice:
neifile
]

[
004
]
Know, then, that in the realm of France there was a gentleman,
Isnard, Comte de Roussillon, by name, who, being in ill-health, kept
ever in attendance on him a physician, one Master Gerard of Narbonne.
The said Count had an only son named Bertrand, a very
fine and winsome little lad; with whom were brought up other
children of his own age, among them the said physician's little
daughter Gillette; who with a love boundless and ardent out of all
keeping with her tender years became enamoured of this Bertrand.
[
005
]
And so, when the Count died, and his son, being left a ward of the
King, must needs go to Paris, the girl remained beside herself with
grief, and, her father dying soon after, would gladly have gone to
Paris to see Bertrand, might she but have found a fair excuse; but no
decent pretext could she come by, being left a great and sole heiress
and very closely guarded. [
006
]
So being come of marriageable age, still
cherishing Bertrand's memory, she rejected not a few suitors, to
whom her kinsfolk would fain have married her, without assigning
any reason.

[Voice:
neifile
]

[
007
]
Now her passion waxing ever more ardent for Bertrand, as she
learned that he was grown a most goodly gallant, tidings reached
her that the King of France, in consequence of a tumour which he
had had in the breast, and which had been ill tended, was now
troubled with a fistula, which occasioned him extreme distress and
suffering; nor had he as yet come by a physician that was able,
though many had essayed, to cure him, but had rather grown worse
under their hands; wherefore in despair he was minded no more to
have recourse to any for counsel or aid. [
008
]
Whereat the damsel was
overjoyed, deeming not only that she might find therein lawful occasion
to go to Paris, but, that, if the disease was what she took it to be,
it might well betide that she should be wedded to Bertrand. So--for
not a little knowledge had she gotten from her father--she prepared
a powder from certain herbs serviceable in the treatment of the supposed
disease, and straightway took horse, and hied her to Paris.
[
009
]
Arrived there she made it her first concern to have sight of Bertrand;
and then, having obtained access to the King, she besought
him of his grace to shew her his disease. The King knew not how
to refuse so young, fair and winsome a damsel, and let her see the
place. [
010
]
Whereupon, no longer doubting that she should cure him, she
said:
“
Sire, so please you, I hope in God to cure you of this malady
within eight days without causing you the least distress or discomfort.
”
[
011
]
The King inly scoffed at her words, saying to himself:
“
How should a damsel have come by a knowledge and skill that
the greatest physicians in the world do not possess?
”
He therefore
graciously acknowledged her good intention, and answered
that he had resolved no more to follow advice of physician.
[
012
]
“
Sire,
”
said the damsel,
“
you disdain my art, because I am young
and a woman; but I bid you bear in mind that I rely not on
my own skill, but on the help of God, and the skill of Master
Gerard of Narbonne, my father, and a famous physician in his day.
”
[
013
]
Whereupon the King said to himself:
“
Perchance she is sent me by
God; why put I not her skill to the proof, seeing that she says that
she can cure me in a short time, and cause me no distress?
”
And
being minded to make the experiment, he said:
“
Damsel, and if,
having caused me to cancel my resolve, you should fail to cure me,
what are you content should ensue?
”
[
014
]
“
Sire,
”
answered the damsel,
“
set a guard upon me; and if within eight days I cure you not, have
me burned; but if I cure you, what shall be my guerdon?
”
[
015
]
“
You
seem,
”
said the King,
“
to be yet unmarried; if you shall effect the
cure, we will marry you well and in high place.
”
[
016
]
“
Sire,
”
returned
the damsel,
“
well content indeed am I that you should marry me,
so it be to such a husband as I shall ask of you, save that I may not
ask any of your sons or any other member of the royal house.
”
[
017
]
Whereto the King forthwith consented, and the damsel, thereupon
applying her treatment, restored him to health before the period
assigned. Wherefore, as soon as the King knew that he was cured:
“
Damsel,
”
said he,
“
well have you won your husband.
”
[
018
]
She
answered:
“
In that case, Sire, I have won Bertrand de Roussillon,
of whom, while yet a child, I was enamoured, and whom I have
ever since most ardently loved.
”
[
019
]
To give her Bertrand seemed to
the King no small matter; but, having pledged his word, he would
not break it: so he sent for Bertrand, and said to him:
“
Bertrand,
you are now come to man's estate, and fully equipped to enter on it;
'tis therefore our will that you go back and assume the governance
of your county, and that you take with you a damsel, whom we have
given you to wife.
”
[
020
]
“
And who is the damsel, Sire?
”
said Bertrand.
[
021
]
“
She it is,
”
answered the King,
“
that has restored us to health by
her physic.
”
[
022
]
Now Bertrand, knowing Gillette, and that her lineage
was not such as matched his nobility, albeit, seeing her, he had found
her very fair, was overcome with disdain, and answered:
“
So, Sire,
you would fain give me a she-doctor to wife. Now God forbid that
I should ever marry any such woman.
”
[
023
]
“
Then,
”
said the King,
“
you would have us fail of the faith which we pledged to the damsel,
who asked you in marriage by way of guerdon for our restoration to
health.
”
[
024
]
“
Sire,
”
said Bertrand,
“
you may take from me all that
I possess, and give me as your man to whomsoever you may be
minded; but rest assured that I shall never be satisfied with such a
match.
”
[
025
]
“
Nay, but you will,
”
replied the King;
“
for the damsel
is fair and discreet, and loves you well; wherefore we anticipate that
you will live far more happily with her than with a dame of much
higher lineage.
”
[
026
]
Bertrand was silent; and the King made great
preparations for the celebration of the nuptials. The appointed day
came, and Bertrand, albeit reluctantly, nevertheless complied, and in
the presence of the King was wedded to the damsel, who loved him
more dearly than herself. [
027
]
Which done, Bertrand, who had already
taken his resolution, said that he was minded to go down to his
county, there to consummate the marriage; and so, having craved and
had leave of absence of the King, he took horse, but instead of
returning to his county he hied him to Tuscany; [
028
]
where, finding the
Florentines at war with the Sienese, he determined to take service
with the Florentines, and being made heartily and honourably welcome,
was appointed to the command of part of their forces, at a
liberal stipend, and so remained in their service for a long while.
[
029
]
Distressed by this turn of fortune, and hoping by her wise management
to bring Bertrand back to his county, the bride hied her
to Roussillon, where she was received by all the tenants as their
liege lady. She found that, during the long absence of the lord,
everything had fallen into decay and disorder; which, being a capable
woman, she rectified with great and sedulous care, to the great joy of
the tenants, who held her in great esteem and love, and severely
censured the Count, that he was not satisfied with her. [
030
]
When the
lady had duly ordered all things in the county, she despatched two
knights to the Count with the intelligence, praying him, that, if 'twas
on her account that he came not home, he would so inform her; in
which case she would gratify him by departing. To whom with all
harshness he replied:
“
She may even please herself in the matter.
For my part I will go home and live with her, when she has this ring
on her finger and a son gotten of me upon her arm.
”
[
031
]
The ring was
one which he greatly prized, and never removed from his finger, by
reason of a virtue which he had been given to understand that it
possessed. The knights appreciated the harshness of a condition
which contained two articles, both of which were all but impossible;
and, seeing that by no words of theirs could they alter his resolve,
they returned to the lady, and delivered his message. [
032
]
Sorely distressed,
the lady after long pondering determined to try how and
where the two conditions might be satisfied, [
033
]
that so her husband
might be hers again. Having formed her plan, she assembled certain
of the more considerable and notable men of the county, to whom
she gave a consecutive and most touching narrative of all that she
had done for love of the Count, with the result; concluding by
saying that she was not minded to tarry there to the Count's perpetual
exile, but to pass the rest of her days in pilgrimages and pious
works for the good of her soul: wherefore she prayed them to undertake
the defence and governance of the county, and to inform the
Count that she had made entire and absolute cession of it to him,
and was gone away with the intention of never more returning to
Roussillon. [
034
]
As she spoke, tears not a few coursed down the cheeks
of the honest men, and again and again they besought her to change
her mind, and stay. All in vain, however; [
035
]
she commended them
to God, and, accompanied only by one of her male cousins and a
chambermaid (all three habited as pilgrims and amply provided with
money and precious jewels), she took the road, nor tarried until she
was arrived at Florence. There she lodged in a little inn kept by a
good woman that was a widow, bearing herself lowly as a poor
pilgrim, and eagerly expectant of news of her lord.

[Voice:
neifile
]

Now it so befell that the very next day she saw Bertrand pass
in front of the inn on horseback at the head of his company; and
though she knew him very well, nevertheless she asked the good
woman of the inn who he was. [
036
]
The hostess replied:
“
'Tis a
foreign gentleman--Count Bertrand they call him--a very pleasant
gentleman, and courteous, and much beloved in this city; and he is
in the last degree enamoured of one of our neighbours here, who is a
gentlewoman, but in poor circumstances. A very virtuous damsel
she is too, and, being as yet unmarried by reason of her poverty, she
lives with her mother, who is an excellent and most discreet lady,
but for whom, perchance, she would before now have yielded and
gratified the Count's desire.
”
[
037
]
No word of this was lost on the lady;
she pondered and meditated every detail with the closest attention,
and having laid it all to heart, took her resolution: she ascertained
the names and abode of the lady and her daughter that the Count
loved, and hied her one day privily, wearing her pilgrim's weeds, to
their house, where she found the lady and her daughter in very
evident poverty, and after greeting them, told the lady that, if it
were agreeable to her, she would speak with her. [
038
]
The gentlewoman
rose and signified her willingness to listen to what she had to say;
so they went into a room by themselves and sate down, and then
the Countess began thus:
“
Madam, methinks you are, as I am,
under Fortune's frown; but perchance you have it in your power,
if you are so minded, to afford solace to both of us.
”
[
039
]
The lady
answered that, so she might honourably find it, solace indeed was
what she craved most of all things in the world. [
040
]
Whereupon the
Countess continued:
“
I must first be assured of your faith, wherein
if I confide and am deceived, the interests of both of us will suffer.
”
[
041
]
“
Have no fear,
”
said the gentlewoman,
“
speak your whole mind
without reserve, for you will find that there is no deceit in me.
”
[
042
]
So the Countess told who she was, and the whole course of her love
affair, from its commencement to that hour, on such wise that the
gentlewoman, believing her story the more readily that she had
already heard it in part from others, was touched with compassion
for her. The narrative of her woes complete, the Countess added:
“
Now that you have heard my misfortunes, you know the two
conditions that I must fulfil, if I would come by my husband; nor
know I any other person than you, that may enable me to fulfil
them; but so you may, if this which I hear is true, to wit, that
my husband is in the last degree enamoured of your daughter.
”
[
043
]
“
Madam,
”
replied the gentlewoman,
“
I know not if the Count
loves my daughter, but true it is that he makes great shew of loving
her; but how may this enable me to do aught for you in the matter
that you have at heart?
”
[
044
]
“
The how, madam,
”
returned the
Countess,
“
I will shortly explain to you; but you shall first hear
what I intend shall ensue, if you serve me. Your daughter, I see, is
fair and of marriageable age, and, by what I have learned and may
well understand, 'tis because you have not the wherewith to marry
her that you keep her at home. Now, in recompense of the service
that you shall do me, I mean to provide her forthwith from my own
moneys with such a dowry as you yourself shall deem adequate for
her marriage.
”
[
045
]
The lady was too needy not to be gratified by the
proposal; but, nevertheless, with the true spirit of the gentlewoman,
she answered:
“
Nay but, madam, tell me that which I may do
for you, and if it shall be such as I may honourably do, gladly will I
do it, and then you shall do as you may be minded.
”
[
046
]
Said then the
Countess:
“
I require of you, that through some one in whom you
trust you send word to the Count, my husband, that your daughter
is ready to yield herself entirely to his will, so she may be sure that
he loves her even as he professes; whereof she will never be convinced,
until he send her the ring which he wears on his finger, and
which, she understands, he prizes so much: which, being sent, you
shall give to me, [
047
]
and shall then send him word that your daughter
is ready to do his pleasure, and, having brought him hither secretly,
you shall contrive that I lie by his side instead of your daughter.
Perchance, by God's grace I shall conceive, and so, having his ring
on my finger, and a son gotten of him on my arm, shall have him
for my own again, and live with him even as a wife should live with
her husband, and owe it all to you.
”

[Voice:
neifile
]

[
048
]
The lady felt that 'twas not a little that the Countess craved of her,
for she feared lest it should bring reproach upon her daughter: but
she reflected that to aid the good lady to recover her husband was
an honourable enterprise, and that in undertaking it she would be
subserving a like end; and so, trusting in the good and virtuous
disposition of the Countess, she not only promised to do as she was
required, but in no long time, proceeding with caution and secrecy,
as she had been bidden, she both had the ring from the Count, loath
though he was to part with it, and cunningly contrived that the
Countess should lie with him in place of her daughter. [
049
]
In which
first commingling, so ardently sought by the Count, it so pleased
God that the lady was gotten, as in due time her delivery made
manifest, with two sons. Nor once only, but many times did the
lady gratify the Countess with the embraces of her husband, using
such secrecy that no word thereof ever got wind, the Count all the
while supposing that he lay, not with his wife, but with her that he
loved, and being wont to give her, as he left her in the morning,
some fair and rare jewel, which she jealously guarded.

[Voice:
neifile
]

[
050
]
When she perceived that she was with child, the Countess, being
minded no more to burden the lady with such service, said to her:
“
Madam, thanks be to God and to you, I now have that which I
desired, and therefore 'tis time that I make you grateful requital, and
take my leave of you.
”
[
051
]
The lady answered that she was glad if the
Countess had gotten aught that gave her joy; but that 'twas not as
hoping to have guerdon thereof that she had done her part, but
simply because she deemed it meet and her duty so to do.
[
052
]
“
Well
said, madam,
”
returned the Countess,
“
and in like manner that
which you shall ask of me I shall not give you by way of guerdon,
but because I deem it meet and my duty to give it.
”
[
053
]
Whereupon
the lady, yielding to necessity, and abashed beyond measure, asked of
her a hundred pounds wherewith to marry her daughter. The
Countess, marking her embarrassment, and the modesty of her
request, gave her five hundred pounds besides jewels fair and rare,
worth, perhaps, no less; and having thus much more than contented
her, and received her superabundant thanks, she took leave of her and
returned to the inn. [
054
]
The lady, to render purposeless further visits or
messages on Bertrand's part, withdrew with her daughter to the
house of her kinsfolk in the country; nor was it long before Bertrand,
on the urgent entreaty of his vassals and intelligence of the departure
of his wife, quitted Florence and returned home. [
055
]
Greatly elated by
this intelligence, the Countess tarried awhile in Florence, and was
there delivered of two sons as like as possible to their father, [
056
]
whom
she nurtured with sedulous care. But by and by she saw fit to take
the road, and being come, unrecognized by any, to Montpellier,
rested there a few days; and being on the alert for news of the
Count and where he was, she learned that on All Saints' day he
was to hold a great reception of ladies and gentlemen at Roussillon.
Whither, retaining her now wonted pilgrim's weeds, she hied her,
[
057
]
and finding that the ladies and gentlemen were all gathered in the
Count's palace and on the point of going to table, she tarried not to
change her dress, but went up into the hall, bearing her little ones in
her arms, and threading her way through the through to the place
where she saw the Count stand, she threw herself at his feet, and
sobbing, said to him:
[
058
]
“
My lord, thy hapless bride am I, who to
ensure thy homecoming and abidance in peace have long time been
a wanderer, and now demand of thee observance of the condition
whereof word was brought me by the two knights whom I sent to
thee. Lo in my arms not one son only but twain, gotten of thee,
and on my finger thy ring. 'Tis time, then, that I be received of
thee as thy wife according to thy word.
”
[
059
]
Whereat the Count was
all dumfounded, recognizing the ring and his own lineaments in the
children, so like were they to him; but saying to himself nevertheless:
“
How can it have come about?
”
[
060
]
So the Countess, while the
Count and all that were present marvelled exceedingly, told what
had happened, and the manner of it, in precise detail. Wherefore
the Count, perceiving that she spoke truth, and having regard to her
perseverance and address and her two fine boys, and the wishes of
all his vassals and the ladies, who with one accord besought him to
own and honour her thenceforth as his lawful bride, laid aside his
harsh obduracy, and raised the Countess to her feet, and embraced
and kissed her, and acknowledged her for his lawful wife, and the
children for his own. [
061
]
Then, having caused her to be rearrayed in
garments befitting her rank, he, to the boundless delight of as many
as were there, and of all other his vassals, gave up that day and some
that followed to feasting and merrymaking; and did ever thenceforth
honour, love and most tenderly cherish her as his bride and wife.